


The Rewards of Dressing Well

by deathgurgle



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Tendo just makes a brief appearance in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathgurgle/pseuds/deathgurgle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt hates meetings that require him to dress properly. He does not, however, hate how much it seems to rile Hermann up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rewards of Dressing Well

Newt does not like formal wear. He also does not particularly enjoy the occasions that required it. He _detests_  formal occasions that are mandatory. Especially meetings that mean he has to behave himself and simplify what he's currently working on. One would think that world leaders could handle being told the biological specifics of the extraterrestrial monsters that plague their world. As rare as they are, Newt still rues whenever Pentecost announces that one is coming up.

"I look lame," Newt points out with a grimace.

"You look _great_ ," Tendo corrects.

Newton fidgets with his suspenders that are hidden beneath his sports coat until Tendo slaps lightly at his hands, moving to straighten his tie briefly.

"Do I have to wear the jacket too?" he whines, and Tendo sighs.

"Listen, I know this isn't your style. I get that, but you need to look sharp for the meeting. There's going to be a lot of important people there; political leaders, military generals, you name it. You can't show up in a wrinkled shirt and a skinny tie."

Newt huffs and shoves his hands into his pockets, toeing at the ground. He stares bashfully at his shoe.

"Y'think Hermann will be into it?"

Tendo claps Newt's shoulder and smirks at him.

"He'll be all over you, my man."

 

***

 

Newt is always incredibly irritated after a meeting having to deal with political leaders who barely have a master's degree. It was pointless to have him rattle off his current research projects and findings when he would only get blank stares until he dumbs down what he was saying. He frowns as he slips his coat off and holds it by a crooked finger as he casually enters the lab. Looking at some samples would cool him down. Then maybe he'll try to convince Hermann to go out for a proper dinner for once... But his thoughts jar as a single finger hooks on the suspender strap going down Newt's back to his trousers and _yanks._ He immediately stumbles backward into someone's chest, making a noise of distress as he nearly drops his sports coat. He's about to snap at the guy messing with him when he feels a pair of lips at his ear.

"Newton," Hermann breathes, voice low and raspy, and Newt freezes.

"Oh. Hermann. Hi."

"You look," he pauses, searching for the right word, and his voice lowers further, "ravishing."

Newton swallows, feeling a hand trace down over his ribs to his hip to eventually settle delicately over his zipper.

"You have never dressed so primly in my presence and I find your improved attire to be quite... stimulating."

Newton's breath hitches in his throat as teeth graze along the edge of his ear.

"I would have you over that desk at this very moment. And again on the couch. And once more in my bed," Hermann whispers viciously, palm pressing down against Newton's fly, and he continues to speak over the other's keening, "by God, I would suck your cock in this ensemble for as long as you so pleased."

God, Hermann's words are absolutely _filthy_ , and Newton finds his pants to be increasingly tight and uncomfortable and Hermann's voice and hand are just enough and— and—

"My quarters. _Now_."

The stimulants are gone in an instant; Hermann is striding out of the lab and Newton is sputtering, going weak at the knees, but he awkwardly shuffles after the mathematician, holding his coat in front of himself. It isn't difficult to close their distance, and he catches a glimpse of Hermann slipping into his quarters. Newton manages to slip in quickly after him, easing it shut behind himself. He's about to pick an argument when Hermann turns and he's _smirking_. He gestures towards himself with a single finger.

"Come here."

And Newt does; he tosses his jacket in the general vicinity of Hermann's desk chair and steps forward until he's within reach, giving the other man the opportunity to drag him the rest of the way by his suspenders. Their mouths mash together forcefully, lips fitting in a comfortable and familiar sensation. Teeth nip at Newton's lower lip and he lets out an embarrassing whimper. Lips are at his throat and they press hot kisses, stopping to suck an angry red blotch into the skin just above his collar. A thumb presses against the mark and Newt feels a mouth breathing into his ear, his own breath trapped somewhere in his bronchioles.

"I'm going to suck you off until you cry," Hermann murmurs casually, catching Newt's earlobe between his incisors. A pathetic noise escapes the man and Hermann lowers himself to a comfortable half crouch with his bad leg extended slightly behind him. Deft hands work at the button and zipper of the biologist's trousers and briefs, finally freeing his cock. Immediately, his lips close around the head and he sucks so weakly, purposefully driving Newton completely mad.

"Hermann, you gotta— I need you to— _Jesus_ ," he rasps, and his voice is gone once again as Hermann's mouth inches forward, tongue pressed flatly to the underside of his erection. A low hum rumbles from Hermann, and Newt feels his knees go weak. A hand shoots out to grip a nearby shelf, the other resting delicately at the top of Hermann's head. The man has the audacity to chuckle around Newton's length, and although it is a very pleasant feeling for him, Newt scowls. However, his irritation is cut off abruptly by a particularly drawn out, hard suck, only to be rivaled by a vacuum. And Newton's hand is gripping at Hermann's hair, tugging lightly at the roots, which only seems to encourage him. Glancing upwards, Hermann locks eyes with Newt and smirks maliciously, suddenly taking his full length into his mouth and relaxed throat with a practiced ease. A breathy, shuddering moan leaves Newton and his grip on the shelf tightens a fraction, the wood creaking quietly.

"Herms, holy shit, man." Another moan escapes past his lips, and he feels fingers pressing firmly into his hip and the back of his thigh. "B—abe, honey, _dude!_ I don't think I'm gonna— gonna last much longer."

A confirming hum rattles him, and Hermann begins to back off, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Newt whines, embarrassingly high-pitched, and Hermann swirls his tongue in the way that he knows drives Newton up the wall. He gives a loud shout that ends in a high pitched keen as he comes, head thudding back against the wall. He tries to calm his stuttering lungs as Hermann is tucking Newt's softening cock back into his pants. He reaches down and hauls Hermann to his feet, bringing him up for a long, chaste kiss. Newt presses a palm to the front of his partner's trousers, revels in the little noise he makes.

"You look _stunning_ , Hermann. Let me take care of you," he murmurs, and slowly drops to his knees.


End file.
